rd with her
finger, was gone.

And now within his sleep his anguished heart found solacement in slow
and burning tears, and, sleeping yet, he wept full bitterly, insomuch
that, sobbing, he awoke. And lo! beneath his right hand was the touch
of cold steel and his fingers clenched tight upon the hilt of his great
sword.

Then my Beltane arose forthwith, and finding his clothes near by, clad
himself and did on his mail, and, soft-treading, went forth of his
narrow chamber. Thus came he where Friar Martin lay, deep-breathing in
his slumber, and waking him not, he passed out into the dawn. And in
the dawn was a gentle wind, very cool and grateful, that touched his
burning brow and eyes like a caress; now looking up to heaven, where
stars were paling to the dawn, Beltane raised the hilt of his sword
and pressed it to his lips.

"O blessed mother!" he whispered, "God hath surely found thee worthy to
be one of His holy angels, so hast thou stooped from heaven to teach to
me my duty. Thus now will I set by my idle grieving for thee, sweet
saint, and strive to live thy worthy son--O dear my mother, who, being
dead, yet liveth!"

Then Beltane sheathed his sword and went softly up the narrow stair
that led to the battlements.

It was a bleak dawn, full of a thick, low-lying mist beyond the walls,
but within this mist, to north and south and east and west, was a faint
stir, while, ever and anon, rose the distant cry of some sentinel
within Duke Ivo's sleeping camp, a mighty camp whose unseen powers held
the fair city in deadly grip. In Belsaye nothing stirred and none waked
at this dead hour save where, high on the bartizan above the square and
mighty keep, the watchman paced to and fro, while here and there from
curtain wall and massy tower, spear-head and bascinet gleamed.

Slow and light of foot Beltane climbed the narrow stair that led up to
one of the two square towers that flanked the main gate, but, being
come thither, he paused to behold Giles, who chancing to be captain of
the watch, sat upon a pile of great stones beside a powerful mangonel
or catapult and stared him dolefully upon the lightening east: full oft
sighed he, and therewith shook despondent head and even thus fell he to
soft and doleful singing, groaning to himself 'twixt each verse, on
this wise:

"She will not heed her lover's moan,
His moped tear, his deep-fetched groan,
So doth he sit, and here alone
Sing willow!

("With three cur